


Picnic

by Severina



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Community: 25fluffyfics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-21
Updated: 2008-09-21
Packaged: 2017-10-10 12:26:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/99713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin drives.  It's the only way he can ensure that they'll actually end up at the park and not, say, the baths or Woody's or somewhere in South America.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picnic

**Author's Note:**

> Post Season Five  
> Written for LJ's 25FluffyFics community  
> Prompt 01: Picnic

"I'm not going," Brian says firmly. He sips his drink -- orange juice at this time of the morning, even Brian Kinney has to slow down sometime -- and regards Justin coolly over the rim of the glass. "And you can't make me," he adds.

Justin rolls his eyes. "How old are you, twelve?"

Brian ignores him and returns his attention to the morning paper.

"You're going," Justin says calmly.

Brian crisply turns a page in the paper. Justin glances across the table and sees that Brian is reading - hah - the sports section. He reaches out quickly and snags the paper away.

"You're going," Justin repeats evenly. "Gus will be horribly disappointed if you don't."

"Gus won't give a shit," Brian snaps. "The kid barely knows I'm alive."

"Then I guess it's up to you to get reacquainted with your son," Justin says smoothly. "And a picnic will be just the place to do it."

Brian pushes his half-eaten plate of bacon and eggs away and folds his hands primly on the table. "Let me explain something to you," he says. "A long time ago, on a day when you were still spitting up pablum and I was fucking everything that moved--"

"The difference in our ages isn't that great," Justin interrupts, "and 'fucking everything that moved' could refer to last week."

"On that happy day," Brian continues blithely, "I made a very long, very detailed mental list of all the things I would never do. These were things like… have a candlelit dinner for two, buy roses, push someone on a swing, purchase a Hallmark card, and… yes, wait for it… go on a picnic. Can you guess why I made this wonderful mental list, Justin?"

"Because you're a dork?" Justin tries.

"Because these are things that are the province of henpecked heterosexual husbands--"

"Nice alliteration."

"--bound by society's bourgeois rules and outdated conventions of what 'love' should be. And--"

"Brian," Justin says, rising to cross the room and lay his hands on Brian's shoulders. "I don't like swings and I'm allergic to roses. I promise I'll never get pissed off if you don't get me a birthday card, and I'm pretty sure there's not a candle to be found in this house. But you are going on this picnic with me and your friends and your son if I have to drag you out of here by your heels, kicking and screaming the entire way."

Brian blinks.

Justin smiles brightly. "I'm gonna go pack a bag," he says. "Finish your eggs."

Brian pushes the plate away pointedly. Much as he'd like to ignore Justin as he walks from the room, he finds his eyes drawn to that ass despite his best efforts. He sighs when Justin vanishes around the corner, bound for the back stairs. "I hate Lindsay," he mutters.

Justin is already taking the stairs two at a time. He pauses halfway up. "What?" he yells.

Brian reluctantly picks up his fork and spikes a piece of egg. "Don't forget your sunblock!" he hollers back.

* * *

Justin drives. It's the only way he can ensure that they'll actually end up at the park and not, say, the baths or Woody's or somewhere in South America.

"Now," he says as they pull in on one of the leafy side streets, "promise me you'll be good."

Brian swivels his head slowly in Justin's direction, and regards him from behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses. "I'm here," he says. "Don't push it."

Justin laughs. "Okay. Promise me you won't fuck some random stranger in the bushes and scar your kid for life."

Brian makes a face. "I think Gus is a little too young for sex ed," he says. He scowls. "Isn't he?"

"Yes!" Justin replies quickly. He snags up the gym bag, slings it over his shoulder and locks the door; waits until Brian catches up before heading toward the park gate. Already he can hear kids voices, laughter, high pitched happy shrieking. "Jesus, Brian, he's only five."

Brian shrugs. "They start early these days."

The park is more crowded than Justin had thought it would be. Children running, with adults trailing slowly after them. Children on the swings. Children getting wet in the wading pool, with anxious parents keeping an eye on the proceedings. Children everywhere.

Justin's not actually sure he _likes_ kids. He tolerates most of them, and he has a soft spot for Gus that's partially because he's Brian's and partially because Gus always looks at him with big round adoring brown eyes. Gus loves him, that's for sure. But kids en masse? Justin is thinking that maybe they should have gone to the baths after all.

"Fuck," Brian says, "does every fag and dyke in greater Pittsburgh have progeny these days?"

"I think a few of these families may actually be heterosexual," Justin comments.

"We've got them beat by at least a 5 to 2 margin," Brian says.

And Justin has to admit he's right. The park is smack dab in the middle of the gay village, only a few blocks from Liberty Avenue, but it's still a heartening realization.

Of course, Justin notices as they get further into the park, quite a few of those same-sex dads aren't above doing a little cruising along with the toddler watching. Justin hitches the gym bag further up on his shoulder and unobtrusively takes Brian's hand. And notices that despite Brian's long list of hetero-romantic things he won't do, he still grips Justin's hand firmly and rubs his thumb absently as they walk.

It's not difficult for them to find the gang. Debbie has commandeered a large space underneath a spreading oak tree, and has scattered six oversized blankets in the shade of its leafy branches.

Each and every one of the blankets is rainbow coloured.

"Perfect timing, boys!" she squeals when they reach her. She pulls herself to her feet with a grunt and gives Justin a bone crushing hug; pats Brian affectionately on the cheek. "We just got here!"

"Daddy!" Gus yells, abandoning his toys on the blanket without a moment's thought and careening across the grass to plow into Brian's legs.

Justin smiles as Brian lifts his son into his arms and kisses his cheek. So much for 'the kid barely knows I'm alive'.

* * *

Melanie and Lindsay stroll slowly near the water fountain, cuddling and giggling, apparently in one of the good phases of their relationship. Carl and Michael take turns making goofy faces at Jenny Rebecca.

"That kid's going to need therapy before puberty," Brian drawls.

Michael just laughs, crosses his eyes, and sticks out his tongue at his daughter. Jenny Rebecca chuckles and squeaks, apparently thinking this is the funniest thing she has ever seen in her short life.

Ben produces a spiral bound notebook and lolls on his stomach, making notes for his next book.

Justin discreetly separates himself from the group and leans against a smaller poplar, the sun overhead shining directly on his sketchbook. He sketches rapidly, aware that he only has a limited span of time to capture these moments. Brian sprawling on the blanket, his body one long decadent line, eyes closed, face at peace. Gus tackling Brian. Brian lounging on his side, head propped up by his hand, playing chinese checkers with his son. Justin's pencil skips quickly across the paper and he refuses to stop to think about the finished product, about the sketches turned into images in oil on canvas. He knows that even if he never painted again, these sketches would be enough.

Justin blinks when Deb's raucous shriek calls them all to the blankets for a late lunch. Almost two hours gone in the blink of an eye.

He joins Debbie at the picnic basket, taking the large Tupperware containers from her hands as she pulls them out of the basket. He can't imagine where she found a wicker picnic basket, especially one this size, but it doesn't surprise him. Neither does the fact that the paper plates have tiny little Pride rainbows on them.

"We've got fried chicken and cole slaw, potato salad and macaroni salad," Debbie says. "A dozen sandwiches -- let's see, there's three each of roast beef, cheddar cheese, peanut butter and jelly, and egg salad -- and a few apples and oranges. Oh, and some lemon bars for dessert!"

She sits back on her haunches and surveys the spread critically. "Geez," she says, "do you think that's enough?"

Carl laughs. "Honey, you've got enough food here to feed all of gay Pittsburgh."

"Well, good!" Debbie squeals. "Come on, everybody! Dig in!"

"I just have one question, Deb," Brian says. He's digging in the cooler, pulling out bottle after endless bottle of spring water. "Where's the scotch?"

Everyone ignores him.

Justin ends up sitting between Brian and Carl, with Jenny Rebecca wiggling on the blanket in front of them. The little girl is fussy, so Justin absently dangles his fingers in front of her until she grabs one and holds on. After a minute, her grip gets tighter. And he notices her little face getting redder and redder. He bites his lip.

Then the smell hits him.

"Uh, Mel," Justin says, wrinkling his nose. "I think JR needs to be changed."

Mel looks up distractedly from where she is playing tonsil hockey with Lindsay. "Oh. Sure, Justin," she says. She digs around behind her, and the next thing he knows a Huggies is flying in his direction. He snags it out of the air instinctively.

Justin looks from the diaper to Jenny Rebecca, and back again. He hears Brian's muffled snort of laughter and shoots him a dirty look.

Then he smiles.

"Sorry, Mel, but I can't change her," he says. "I haven't had my updated polio shot, and unfortunately children who've been recently vaccinated are known to have the live polio vaccine virus in their feces. It's important that unvaccinated people and people with compromised immune systems refrain from contact with both the feces and saliva of recently vaccinated children, for at least a month from the time of vaccination," Justin recites.

"The PSA's never end with you, do they?" Brian asks.

"I am a fount of knowledge," Justin says smugly.

* * *

A little after their late lunch, Gus begs Brian to push him on the swings.

"Wouldn't you prefer it if Mommy pushed you?" Brian tries. "Or how about Justin? Justin _loves_ the swings."

"No, Daddy!" Gus answers, tugging on Brian's arm. "I want you to do it!"

"He wants you to do it, Daddy," Lindsay says with a shrug and a grin.

Brian lets Gus tug him toward the swing-set, dragging his heels the whole way. Gus is thankfully oblivious to his father's lack of enthusiasm. "I want you to push me high to the sky, Daddy!" he shouts.

"Well, if anybody knows anything about getting high, it's Brian," Michael laughs once Gus is out of earshot.

Ben pulls Michael against his chest and nibbles playfully at his ear before releasing him. He gazes down at Jenny Rebecca affectionately. "You have a beautiful daughter, Michael."

"We have a beautiful daughter," Michael reminds him.

"And this was a beautiful idea," Debbie puts in. "So much better than being stuck in that house on a hot day like today with no air conditioning!"

"Please, Deb," Carl says, holding up a hand. Clearly this is an old argument. "I'm working on it."

"Yeah, workin' on it," Deb repeats, scowling at Carl before pecking Lindsay on the cheek. "I'm so glad you thought of it, sweetie."

Lindsay laughs. "What can I say, Deb? I'm brilliant."

Justin leans back against the tree and lets his eyes drift to half-mast, the voices of his friends becoming meaningless babble. He's stuffed and he's tired, and through his lashes he can just make out Brian pushing Gus on the swings. Gus flying as high as the sky. He imagines he can hear Gus's squeals of delight as he pumps his legs, trying to get higher and higher.

The brunet is pushing the kid on the swing next to Gus. When he first says something to Brian, Justin figures he's talking about his child, a little girl. And he probably is. But it doesn't take long for the talk to turn to something different. Justin knows the signs.

He watches until Brian blows the guy off, then closes his eyes.

"I hope you noticed," Brian says proudly later, when the detritus of the meal has been cleaned away, when Gus is slumped sleepy-eyed in Debbie's lap, when Michael is resting his head on Ben's chest and staring up at the clouds. When Brian is lounging on the blanket, one hand resting on Justin's thigh.

Justin blinks once, slowly. He's good at playing dumb. "Noticed?"

Brian huffs out a sigh. "That I turned down that guy at the swings."

"Oh, that," Justin says casually. "Yeah, I noticed."

"No fucking in the bushes to scar my kid for life," Brian stage whispers.

Justin wonders if Brian thinks he should get an award. "Well done," he says. "But you didn't miss much. I had him last week at Babylon. Teeeeeny dick."

And when Brian's mouth drops open, Justin laughs.

* * *

They drive back to Britin mostly in comfortable silence. Brian takes the wheel because Justin's not entirely sure he could get them home in one piece.

They climb into bed at eleven o'clock by mutual unspoken agreement, both exhausted from a day spent in the sun and, on Brian's part, chasing after a rambunctious five year old. Justin closes his eyes and sees the sketches he'd done earlier in the day. He knows that in the morning he'll be abandoning his current piece and focusing entirely on this new set of images.

He won't let Brian see them until they're done.

He flops onto this side and flings a leg over Brian's. "Well," he says around a yawn, "that wasn't so bad, was it?"

Brian is silent for a moment. "I didn't want to kill anyone," he finally answers.

"And Gus loved it."

"He did," Brian agrees.

Justin closes his eyes.

"Justin?"

"Mmmm."

"Tomorrow," Brian says, "I'm going to buy candles."


End file.
